My Big Brother
by ElizabethxSalvatore
Summary: When Sherlock finds our he has a sister, how will he handle the news? First Sherlock fanfiction.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: So I started watching Sherlock over the weekend and have become completely obsessed (dedicated, yes, dedicated is a better word) with it. This popped in my head while I was getting ready for school and I had to get it down. P.S. I have never been in a plane so forgive me if I get things wrong. Anyways, please review, but most importantly, ENJOY!**

Michaela stood over the dead body of her mother, lying peacefully in the casket. She wasn't dumb. She knew she would have to now move from her birth home of Vernon, Texas to Britain. She would have to choice one out of the two brothers to live with. Mycroft, the rich, stubborn one. Or Sherlock, the odd, eccentric one. Both of whom had no idea that she even existed

Michaela would rather just stay in Vernon. It would be simpler. She wouldn't have to leave friends behind. But she also knew that she would have no support if she didn't move to Britain. So with a heavy heart, Michaela went home to pack everything she owned.

* * *

Michaela clutched the armrest in her hand, trying not to let the anxiety get the best of her. She had never ridden in a plane before, so her nerves were getting to her.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we will be landing in London, England in 30 minutes. Please return to your seats and get ready for landing."

Letting out a sigh of relief, Michaela grabbed her seat belt and hurriedly clicked it into place. She then tried to relax and not look out the window. Jouncing her leg up and down was not helping her anxiety, but with it being a nervous twitch, it couldn't be helped. She almost yelled with joy when the pilot came on telling everyone that they were landing and to fasten their seat belts. After a long exhausting wait to get off the plane and to grab her luggage, Michaela finally made it outside. After hailing many taxis with no luck, Michaela walked a little further down to the less crowded area of the road and yelled again. Finally (after 2 more tries) a taxi pulled over and the cabby jumped out to grab her luggage and open the door for her. With a quick thank ya, Michaela hopped into the back seat.

Michaela spouted out the strange address then leaned back and thought about her mother and what she had gotten her into.

Her mom didn't really like to talk about her life before she arrived to America. She had told Michaela stories, usually when they were lying down to bed, of her two remarkable sons. She never spoke of why she left her family. She just told stories of her past, how Sherlock was able to deduce anything by studying one small thing, how Mycroft would watch over his baby brother (even though it drove Sherlock insane).

Michaela would picture her brothers before falling asleep. How they would meet. What they would say. She had always dreamed of meeting them, but never like this. Not only was she having to deal with the death of her mother, but now she would have to break the news to two people who have never even met her. Michaela didn't know how long she could hold on before she broke down.

"We're here, Miss."

Michaela's head shot up as the cabbie's voice invaded her thoughts. Turning her head to look out the window, Michaela noticed the small shop first before she turned her attention to the black door with the address 221B on the front of it. Sighing, she opened the door and stepped out as the cabbie sat her things in front of her, jumped into the taxi, and drove of.

Michaela picked up her bag and slowly walked to the door. She wasn't ready for this, but if she didn't do it now, she never would. Lifting her hand, Michaela knocked on the door.


	2. Chapter 2

Michaela waited for a few more seconds before knocking once more. A few seconds later, the door opened to show a petite woman standing on the other side.

"Why hello. May I help you dear?" The woman asked.

"Yes. I was wondering if a Sherlock Holmes was home?" Michaela asked politely. If there was one thing her mother drilled into her, it was to treat elders with respect.

"Let me go check, dear. Why don't you come in and have a seat? I'll be right back."

Stepping through the door, Michaela observed everything around her. There was a staircase straight ahead, obviously leading to another floor. To her left was an entry way to what looked like a kitchen, and a hallway leading to the other end of the house. Michaela took a few steps down the hallway, before remembering the respect rule, and stepped back into the kitchen.

"MRS. HUDSON! I AM BUSY!"

Michaela jumped up at the roar that she had heard and rushed upstairs to jump all over the idiot who was treating this woman so disrespectfully. Coming upon the open door, Michaela barged in to find a tall, bushy haired guy standing ramrod straight in the center of the room, another smaller man, sitting in a chair reading the paper like it was nothing new, and poor Mrs. Hudson slightly cowering in what looked like the door way to the kitchen.

"Excuse me, I don't know who you think you are, sir, but if I were you, I would back off."

"This is no concern of yours, young lady." The man stated. he had given her a brief glance over, before turning back to the old woman. This must have been something that didn't happen every day, because the other man put down is paper, and gave Michaela a nod.

"Sherlock Holmes, I suppose." Only her brother could be the biggest jerk on the face of the earth.

"Who wants to know?" Came the other man's voice.

"His mother."

And with those two words, everyone shut up. No one move. No one spoke. A bomb could have gone off and it wouldn't have phased anyone.

"My mother is dead." That was Mr. Bushy Head. Of course, he would think his mother was dead. To him, she had been gone for 16 years.

"Your mother is dead, yes. But she hasn't been dead for as long as you would like to think."

"I think a nice cuppa tea would do us all, don't you John dear?" John gave a small shocked nod, and Mrs. Hudson ran out of the room.

"Is this a joke?" Sherlock spoke harshly. Of course, Michaela would have too if someone had come and told her that her mother had been alive longer than she had thought.

"No. Your mother went to America. There she met a man and became impregnated with his kid. I am the result of that." Michaela didn't know who her father was. She had only grown up with her mom and the idea of her two brothers dancing in her head.

"Get out."

Michaela looked up at the harsh words, not knowing that she had looked down while she was stuck in the past. Sherlock was glaring at her, his finger-pointing her to where he wanted her to go. Out the door, down the stairs, out of this house, and back out of his life.

Michaela stood up straighter. "I refuse to leave until we discuss this." And with that she plopped onto the couch and stared at the two men in front of her.


	3. Chapter 3

Michaela sat on the couch and observed Sherlock pacing in front of her. He was agitated that much she could tell. He wanted her gone, and she just simply refused.

John cleared his throat and stuttered something about going to help Mrs. Hudson with the tea. He was about to walk out when Sherlock gave a sharp, exasperated "John!" that caused John to plop back into his chair and follow along in the awkward silence.

Michaela went back to observing Sherlock. He wasn't a joker, that much she could tell. She felt like this John fellow was the only one who could get him to loosen up, or at least chuckle once in a while. She couldn't see anyone living with a man who was so uptight. She certainly couldn't do it.

"Okay." Sherlock plopped in one of the arm chairs, bringing his legs up to his chest. "You're telling me that my mother is our mother. And that instead of dying years ago like I thought she had, she's only been dead for 3 weeks?"

Michaela nodded. Her throat had closed up with the thought of her mother's death and she didn't trust herself to talk now.

"Then why are you here?" Sherlock let out, exasperated. "Why didn't you just go live with your dad?"

"I don't know my dad you idiot! And plus mother put it in her will for me to live with either you or Mycroft."

"Oh Jesus Christ. Whose gonna tell Mycroft?" John slumped even further in his seat with his outburst.

"I might as well. I told you and Sherlock didn't I?" Michaela looked around, waiting for someone to pull out a phone or something. "Well is anyone gonna call him?"

Sherlock pulled out a phone and flipped it open. "I prefer to text." And with that the awkward silence ensued again.

It was only a little while later that John's cell let out a blaring ring, causing Michaela and John to jump and Sherlock to let out a long sigh.

"Hello?" John answered. Michaela watched him, wondering who it was.

"Yes I believe you better make your way down here as soon as possible... Yes... Okay." And with that, John pressed end and leaned back.

"Well here is your tea dearies." Mrs. Hudson announced, walking into the room with a tray balancing on her arms.

Michaela took a cup and said thanks, as did John. Sherlock waved it off and continued to stare Michaela down.

A short while later, they all heard a car pull up and the door downstairs open. Footsteps made their way up the stairs.

"Here we go," Sherlock whispered.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Hey guys! Thanks for the follow, favorite, or review. They're like ambrosia to my muse. Don't be afraid to give me some feedback. Just PM me with the name of the story and your thoughts, and if I agree with you, I might make some changes. **

* * *

Michaela sat up straighter when Mycroft walked into the room. While Sherlock was uptight, she felt like she could at least relax around him, but with Mycroft, Michaela felt like going to change in something fancy and drinking her tea with her pinkie sticking out.

"What is going on Sherlock?" Mycroft asked, only giving Michaela a brief sweep of the eyes before staring at Sherlock.

Sherlock plucked up his violin. He wasn't the one who had requested Mycroft be here, therefore he wasn't going to do anything about it.

"Call me when you're finished," he stated blandly before running up the stairs to the second landing.

John sighed and slumped deeper into his arm-chair, rubbing the valley between his eyebrows. Michaela heard beautiful music start-up from upstairs. She looked at Mycroft.

"Hello Mycroft. I'm Michaela," she introduced herself.

Mycroft looked her over. "Hello Michaela. Sorry if this is rude, but what are you doing here?" Well he was straight to the point, wasn't he?

Michaela breathed in. Here goes nothing.

"I'm your sister." She stated.

There was a long silence before Mycroft started chuckling. "Don't be absurd! I don't have a sister," he looked at her. "Now what are you really doing here?"

Michaela looked him right in the eye. "Your mother moved to America, and met another man. I am the product of that."

Mycroft stared at her with a stony face. "No." He simply stated. "You're lying."

Michaela was getting frustrated. She got up and went to her bag.

"Here," she said, pulling out her birth certificate and offering it to him.

He took it and studied it. "May I take this to have it checked out?"

Michaela threw her hands up in defeat. "Whatever!" She sighed, plopping back onto the couch.

John got up to go get Sherlock. Michaela and Mycroft stared at each other.

"Why don't you believe me?" Michaela asked, wondering.

"Because my mother died. That's why." Mycroft stared at her.

"Do you always believe everything you hear?" Michaela snapped at him.

The tense silence filled the air. The only thing that broke it was the footsteps on the stairs. Sherlock came bounding into the room and walked right up to Michaela.

He bent down and stared at her. Michaela shifted uncomfortable. If Sherlock noticed he didn't care. He continued staring her down, slowly, letting his eyes take in every detail.

"Well, Mycroft. She does have mother's hair." Their mother had dark curls, much like Michaela and Sherlock's.

_Had had dark curls._ Michaela thought. She felt her throat close up and tears fill her eyes.

"And she has my build. Though the color of her eyes are very much like yours," Sherlock leaned back onto his heel, jumping up and pacing back and forth.

Finally he sighed and looked at her. "I believe you," he stated. Michaela could tell it took a lot for him to say that. She nodded her head towards him.

"Thank you."

Mycroft scoffed and jumped up. "Sherlock! You haven't even given me time to run this through the computer. She could be a con ma- urr woman." Mycroft finished awkwardly.

Sherlock looked at John. "If you believe her, which I find very hard to believe, then I guess I do to." John sighed.

Michaela smiled and through her arms around Sherlock. She felt him stiffen and then gently push her back.

"I don't do hugs," he said before plopping back down.


	5. Chapter 5

Michaela sat back on the couch. "So... who will I be living with?" She asked, causing both Sherlock and Mycroft to tense up.

They glanced at each other. "What do you mean?" Mycroft asked first.

"My mo- Our mother's will," Michaela said, correcting herself. She had to remind herself that she had to share her mom with two other people now. "Our mother's will stated that I was to live with one of y'all," Michaela told them.

"One of you," Sherlock corrected her. "Just because you are from Northern Texas doesn't mean that the laws of grammar do not apply to you," Sherlock stated.

Michaela stared at him. "How did he know I was from Texas?" She asked, looking at Mycroft and John.

"Just nod your head and agree. That's what I do." John stated.

Michaela was staring at Sherlock like he was crazy.

"Well, you can live with him," Mycroft said, heading for the door. "I'm going to go have the authenticity of this birth certificate checked out."

And with that Mycroft took off, bounding down the stairs and out of the door.

"Mycroft!" Sherlock yelled out as soon as the front door closed. He sighed and turned to look at Michaela.

"Well I guess we should find you some place to sleep since you've been left here," Sherlock remarked emotionless.

Michaela looked at the ground. She needed to find somewhere to just cry and let all her emotions out before she burst.

"I'll go talk to Ms. Hudson," he continued, making his way out of the room. Michaela sighed and leaned back into the couch.

"You can cry if you'd like," John mumbled. Michaela, having forgotten he was there, jumped about five feet in the air and gave out a small squeal of surprise.

"I'm fine," Michaela told him, rather harshly.

John lifted his hands in surrender. "Okay." The room filled with a tense awkward silence.

"I'm sorry," Michaela finally apologized. "It's just too soon to be discussing these things and Sherlock and Mycroft don't seem to be taking it seriously."

"They will," John assured her, leaning forward in his chair. "They are just both a little weary when it comes to strangers."

Michaela nodded. She understood not trusting strangers. She didn't even want to come up here to meet her brothers. They sat there in silence until Sherlock came bounding into the room.

"Well we have an extra room and Ms. Hudson says she doesn't mind you using it. If you would like, I can show you it." Michaela nodded. She had her own room! That was more than she had hoped for.

When Michaela went to grab her things, she grabbed Ms. Hudson up in a hug and thanked her profusely.

"Now don't you worry about it dear! You stay as long as you like," Ms. Hudson told her.

Michaela smiled at her and hugged her one more time before grabbing her bags and following Sherlock up the stairs to her new room.

She walked into the room behind Sherlock, who was fixing an air mattress on the floor.

"We'll get you your bed here soon so you don't have to sleep on this dingy thing for long. I am down the hall, two doors down and John is right next door if you need us." Sherlock stood up and walked out.

John stopped at the door. "Do come and get me if you need anything. Sherlock may get grouchy, but I don't mind helping." And with that and a "Goodnight!", John closed the door and headed down the hall.

Michaela sighed and laid down on her mattress. A little while later she was falling asleep with tears running down her face.


End file.
